We're the Lucky Ones
by RainIsMyFavouriteColour
Summary: The full summary is too long to put here, so you can find it on my profile or at the top of the first chapter. I apologise for the inconvenience. Features Sawamura during the Yips Arc. MiyuSawa, possible side pairings. Angst, fluff, slow build, developing relationships, slice of life. Not rated at the moment, may change later.
1. When A Door Closes

**Summary** : When it's clear that Chris' help isn't enough to help Eijun get over the yips, Miyuki must overstep his own boundaries in order to help Eijun recover. It's a path paved with bumps and setbacks, but both do whatever it takes to get Eijun to heal, a process which inexplicably draws them closer together and to each other.

About a year later, life should, by all means, be perfect. Kazuya has graduated and been offered a position to play on a US team, Sawamura has become the ace and rumours about early offers are spreading. Except that Kazuya can't be happy because life is pulling him into two different directions; he has to ask himself which is more important, a life-long dream or keeping Sawamura by his side?

All this questioning about choices comes to an abrupt end when Kazuya is involved in a near fatal car accident - and he suddenly only has one choice to make.

Is it a life worth living, when all he has seems lost?

* * *

 _When you try your best, but you don't succeed  
When you get what you want, but not what you need  
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse_

" _Sometimes you make choices in life and sometimes choices make you."  
\- Gayle Foreman, 'If I Stay'_

* * *

" _No way. You cheated."_

" _You wish!"_

"… _fine then. What do you want?"_

" _Hmm…"_

" _Hurry up already."_

" _Hey! I won, don't rush me. I need to savour this moment for as long as I can."_

" _Sawamura…"_

" _Haha, okay, okay. What do I want…I want…"_

The alarm rings and Kazuya blearily opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to move while his brain slowly catches up to his state of wakefulness. It's a moment filled with blissful oblivion despite the incessant blearing right next to his ear. Sleep still clouds his mind, the last echoes of a familiar scene flashing from behind the closing veil of dreams.

Then the memory of bright laughter rings louder than the alarm and Kazuya groans, finally reaching out to shut it off. Throwing one arm over his face, he lies motionless for a little longer but any signs of restfulness have fled. Usually, the silence would be a relief but not today. Today of all days is possible the worst time to remember.

Kazuya's chest throbs.

A little later, he yawns widely as he hauls a suitcase down the stairs. It's still dark outside though he supposes that doesn't say much for this time of the year. Kazuya's father finishes off his cup of black coffee before setting the mug down on the kitchen counter, murmuring a sleepy good morning in his direction. Kazuya makes a mental note to tell him to clean up after himself; after all, he won't be able to do the house chores once he's gone. Then he remembers that he's lived at the dorms for the past three years. Surely Kazuya's father knows how to take care of himself.

Does he?

Kazuya doesn't ask.

Outside, they spend a good 15 minutes scratching ice off the car. It's cold out, as is to be expected, but he tells himself to hurry because the faster they're done, the sooner they can get into the car and turn on the heating.

By the time the car is ready to go, the sun is starting to peek out from between darkened alleyways and glancing across rooftops. It sets spots of ice on fire, turning them into liquid gold and lending a surreal, warm glow to a snowy dawn.

It should make Kazuya feel at least a little warmer but all it does is intensify the throbbing in his heart.

* * *

The quiet was unsettling.

It wasn't that Eijun hated the quiet; he could be very still if chose to be, even if none of his teammates believed him whenever he said it, save for Haruichi. No, the reason he was restless now was because it was _too_ quiet.

It was that kind of late at night when nothing but the occasional stirrings of hot summer wind and some cicadas could be heard singing their song. If he strained his ears, he could maybe make out the distant wailing of an ambulance or the faint roar of a flight engine of an airplane passing by above them.

It wasn't enough to drown out the memory of his failure, playing like a broken record inside Eijun's head. That feeling of _wrongness_ when the ball had left his fingertips. That sickening sound of impact with Shirakawa's helmet; a mix between a solid thud and loud crunching, though he tried to rationalise that the latter must have been from where Shirakawa had slid his feet across the red earth.

Red.

So much red. Red hair, red earth, red anguish and anger, red creeping in from the corners of Eijun's vision until everything was coloured varying shades of fear and blood. Everything between then and Seidou's loss was blurred but they connected together through a bright red thread, emerging from Eijun's heart and pointing at the scoring board in accusation.

Eijun blinked up at the bottom of Kuramochi's bunk, finely tuned ears picking up on near silent sounds of movements. It felt strange, to hear it so amplified, making him scrunch up his eyebrows in confusion. Well, why not try to unravel the mystery of why it was so unusually quiet? Since he couldn't sleep anyway and anything was better than thinking about… _that_.

Another noise, barely there and gone before it could register properly, grabbed his attention. Eijun turned his head sideways, catching a glimpse of the bunkbed across from his. It was too dark to see, but even so he knew that Masuko occupied one of the bunks.

It wouldn't be long before he moved out…before he was gone, just like the other third years…

He swallowed, blinking. No. He didn't want to cry. Distraction, distraction.

Why was it so quiet?

His eyes slid sideways again without prompting.

What was this silence doing here when it so clearly didn't belong?

Another muffled sound, one from above, and Eijun smushed his face into his pillow at the realisation, shoulders hunched.

It was quiet because, usually, Masuko snored loud enough to keep anyone in a three room radius awake. It was quiet because Kuramochi had a tendency to talk in his sleep.

It was quiet because all of them were wide awake, the memory of today's loss too fresh and raw to let them drift off into blissful oblivion.

Eijun curled up underneath his blanket, too hot but not really caring. For once, he was glad of the dark because knowing about his roommates', senpai and friends', weaknesses made him feel frailer than he had any right to feel. Darkness blanketed everything in secrets; the tears that the two of them were shedding would be left behind by morning. They would be strong, carrying on like nothing happened and training even harder than before.

He owed them. It was his fault that they even needed the night's safety to hide. Eijun couldn't cry. Not when he was the reason for their loss in the first place. He didn't deserve to.

He turned to face the wall. Pulling up the thin blanket to his chin, he rolled up its edge and bit into it to stop his lips from trembling. His eyes were beginning to swim, growing warm. Eijun squeezed them shut and bit harder until his jaw hurt.

Eijun couldn't cry and so he wouldn't.

* * *

"There was someone, you know."

The admission curls white in the cold air, melting into the cloudy sky and hard ground. It obscures cool grey for a moment before disappearing like a silent sigh.

Kazuya stares down at engraved letters, as unresponsive and lifeless as the stone they decorate. A fresh bouquet of flowers lays on the unmarked snow, covering the grave like a blanket. It's a bit ironic, how bright they are against that pure, icy white.

"There was someone... I think - I don't know." he breaks off, frustrated at just the thought. It's amazing how far his influence reaches. Something tugs inside Kazuya's chest, painful and too much like longing, and he swallows, blinking when a bit of cold white fluff drifts down from downy purple-grey above. "I think you would have liked him."

A second snowflake falls, followed by a third, fourth, fifth, until Kazuya can't see anymore. It doesn't matter though, because he isn't really looking, not at a silent grave or too bright flowers, not for words of advice or comfort which won't come. Not at, or for, anything at all.

He can't feel the cold or hear the soft crunch on snow-covered gravel behind him either; Kazuya isn't really here nor does he want to be. Then again, what he wants isn't important anymore. Maybe it never was. And yet he's here because of what he does want, a long-sought dream is finally coming true - just maybe not in the way he imagined it.

Dreams should be chased, they say. Why does no one ever tell you that dreams must be weighed, must be measured by their value? What if chasing one's dreams comes at a price, one too high to pay?

Kazuya hopes it's worth it. He hopes it's worth ending something he thinks of possibly the happiest time in his life, something he's sure would have stayed that way despite the warnings that they are 'too young to know what love and true commitment is'. He hopes it's worth feeling this empty even though he should be looking to the future and not the past.

Be careful what you wish for, they say. Maybe he should have been.

"Kazuya." A gloved hand weighs heavily on his shoulder; even through his thick winter coat, he can feel body heat start to sink through to anchor him in the present. A comforting squeeze prompts Kazuya to blink away the hazy blur in his eyes. "Ready to go?"

At the question, he swallows and nods. One more glance at the white-covered grave and a silent goodbye in its direction, then Kazuya follows his father through the cemetery and back to the waiting car. He hesitates at the gates, turning back halfway.

It feels like something is missing. Like he should have said something else, something more. But what else is there? What can you say to or ask someone who won't answer back?

"Kazuya? You coming?"

It's his father yet again who pulls him out of his thoughts. This time, Kazuya resolutely turns his back on the silent valley of the dead. It's not like they can hear him anyway.

A snowy gust of wind blows over the car's roof as if to disagree.

"Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

It was almost dawn by the time Eijun gave up on his attempt to catch any sleep that night. The room was as dark as ever but the cicadas had stopped chirping while birds were beginning to replace them. The only sounds were that of even breathing and Masuko's snoring even though it was a little more quiet than usual.

Using the noise as cover, Eijun slipped from the room silently. His head was filled with fog and his eyes hurt from fatigue but he had tried enough for one night, tried to forget and to sleep. He didn't know how Kuramochi and Masuko did it.

Swallowing, he laced up his running shoes and set a brisk pace toward the practice fields. Soon, he was sprinting, muscles bunching and aching in a familiar way. It was comforting. Eijun only stopped briefly to find his tire before setting off again.

He lost all sense of time as he ran. All he knew was the constant motion of moving his feet forward and the rhythmic impact they had on the ground. His lungs began to burn and his breath came fast but he almost welcomed it. It took away his ability to concentrate on anything else. Eijun didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, trying his best to keep running, to feel the air rush into his lungs and cool heated skin. He didn't notice how his pace began to slow until he came to a stop.

Even though it was still early, his clothes were drenched with sweat and sticking to him uncomfortably. His hair was soaked and his face dripping; some got into his eyes and stung painfully, hot and hazy. Wiping them did nothing, in fact, it seemed like more and more flowed down his cheeks the harder he tried to dry them. Tilting his head back, he gave up and stood there with clenched fists as the tears kept coming.

The sun began to rise.

* * *

Kazuya watches the scenery fly by, blurry grey with the occasional dark streaks of colour. The only constant is the road behind and in front of him. If he leans forward a little more, he can see the marked white stripes painted on the ground passing by, breaking regularly. The highway is a boring thing to look at, but it's preferable to having to try and avoid his father's wish to talk. They'd already done this recently enough and the memory of it, along with everything else it made Kazuya think of, was still too new and uncomfortable for him to want to repeat the experience.

The heater is on full blast but he still glances over at his father before he tries, to no avail, to turn it up even more.

"Are you getting sick? We should get you some medicine before your flight." his father remarks, not having missed the quick movement. Kazuya furrows his brows, shaking his head.

"No. I'll just wrap up in the blankets they give us." he says, absentmindedly drawing his jacket around him tighter. He's still shivering but he has a feeling it's not from the cold or standing out in the snow. It's been with him for longer than that.

Kazuya thinks of grassy baseball fields on hot summer days, already feeling a bit better. Then even warmer amber flashes across his vision and the heat is gone as fast as it came, leaving a dull, throbbing ache in its place.

"Hmm." is all his father says to that, glancing over at his son in mild worry. He isn't surprised when his attention goes unacknowledged; a ghost of a smile forms on his lips. He clears his throat, turning his attention back on the road. "Looks like there will be a storm tonight."

Kazuya barely pays attention, merely nodding as he tries to count the white stripes passing by underneath them. He fails all too quickly, growing dizzy as they seemingly gain speed.

Maybe it means something, like time going by too quickly to keep up, even if you try to pay attention. Maybe Kazuya should have been more attentive; maybe they would have had more time.

 _Snap out of it_ , he tells himself, blinking when he can feel his eyes grow warm. _This is idiotic. Stripes are stripes._

He sinks into his seat, slouching, and catches a glimpse of the thick clouds building up. It really does look like a big storm is coming, even though they've been given a short reprieve from the heavy snowfall of the last few days. Kazuya can feel restlessness stir in his stomach.

Stripes are stripes but maybe a storm really does mean something, he thinks as he watches a single snowflake settle on the windshield before it melts.

* * *

Eijun didn't manage to sneak back into the dorms undetected. Instead, he was accosted by a grumpy Kuramochi and given a disapproving look by Masuko. Eijun grinned sheepishly, something easily wiped off by the headlock Kuramochi used on him and resulting in a pained gasp.

"Idiot, you think we wouldn't notice you missing breakfast? And as if your stinky, sweaty self wouldn't have given you away." Kuramochi's hold tightened. "You were running."

It wasn't a question but it might as well have been. Eijun stilled, ceasing his struggle.

He'd been running, that was true. As Kuramochi had said, his 'stinky, sweaty self' was evidence enough. The question was, had Eijun been running from something?

Well, yes. He had. But that wasn't something his senpai needed to or should know.

Kuramochi and Masuko traded a worried look over the bent head of their unusually quiet roommate but before they could say anything, Eijun looked up with a bright grin.

"Of course! My tire gets lonely without me, y'know? Since I haven't been able to run much because of all our games –"

"There you go again with your bullshit. Tires don't have feelings, moron!" Kuramochi let go of Eijun in exasperation but hit him upside the head for good measure. Eijun glared at him but his expression melted into astonishment at the protein bar held out to him. Kuramochi stoically looked the other way. "Here. And go get changed, brat."

Eijun wasn't able to formulate as much as a simple 'thank you' before getting another kick in the behind and his senpai left.

The rest of the day passed by in a dream-like blur. Dream-like, because everything was too normal. School went on like it always did, his teammates behaved like they would on any other day. Eijun did catch the occasional lapse they had when they thought he wasn't looking, a lull in conversation filled with absentminded, far off gazes and stilted whispers. Strangely enough, it was those cracks in this whole façade which assured him that it really wasn't a dream.

Then he would remember exactly what had happened and wished he was dreaming. At least dreams stayed dreams, to be forgotten once you woke up.

Practice was gruelling, led by their coach. He seemed completely unaffected by their loss though something told Eijun not to believe it. Nothing seemed real although it was. He couldn't help but think of all this as a nightmare he could find no escape from.

Eijun drew back his arm and that was when that nightmare became reality.

Red flashed across his vision, a sound like cracking thunder and a blood-red lightning bolt inside his head. He couldn't move, his body stopping mid-lunge, legs cramping up and arms hanging uselessly by his side. His breath sounded loud in his ears, underlined by the drum-like beat of his heart.

The ball slipped from his loose grasp, bouncing once and rolling across uneven ground.

* * *

Kazuya contemplates the approaching storm in silence. The radio plays quietly in the background, mostly ignored despite the increasing static noise. The windshield is steadily wiped clean of the snow slowly gathering across its surface, a reassuring rhythm among the speeding cars on the highway.

Do storms have meaning?

No. Of course not. They're natural occurrences. Storms, especially those which bring cold and snow, are normal during winter. This is one of the numerous times the weather broadcast has predicted a storm and it certainly won't be the last. No special warnings have been issued, only the usual ones. It will come and pass, like every storm before it.

So why does he have such an uneasy feeling about it?

"Kazuya –"

"Dad, please." Kazuya cuts him off, barely even glancing at him. He's counting white stripes, losing it every few seconds. They pass him by until they form a continuous blur. He clenches his fist inside the pocket of his jacket. "I don't want to talk about it."

He can feel his father looking at him from the side; Kazuya stubbornly keeps his gaze straight ahead and hears a sigh. It's a sound of defeat but more along the lines of 'you may have won the battle but not yet the war' than one of resignation. He knows this won't be let go so easily. He opens his mouth to give a flippant remark, to show he's _just fine_ , he doesn't need to be comforted, now of all times, now that he's about to leave.

Why not earlier?

Kazuya can't ask, gets cut off mid-thought, by the sudden chorus of cars honking surrounding them, disjointed, blaring. His father curses loudly, yanking around the steering wheel. Something nearby makes a crumpling, cracking sound and he abruptly finds the world has flipped.

He doesn't know what's happening. One moment he's determinedly avoiding small talk with his father and the next, there's loud screeching and cold air everywhere. He can't hear a thing above the loud rushing in his ears, can't see all that much either through the cracked lenses of his glasses. His body feels strangely numb, everything is sort of sluggish. He blinks when he can feel something hot dripping into his eyes, trying to find something to hold on to, to tell him what happened –

Everything is red, dark red until black creeps in at the edges and swallows Kazuya whole.

* * *

A new multichap I'm starting. This chapter was a bit shorter than I anticipated but this is all the content I wanted to put into it. The following chapters will be longer.


	2. Game Over Play Again?

_And high up above or down below_

 _When you're too in love to let it go_

 _But if you never try you'll never know_

 _Just what you're worth_

* * *

Chris taps an impatient finger upon the steering wheel. It's just his luck, really – but then again, it's that time of the year when traffic clogs up the streets until it's commonplace.

Sirens echo in the distance, slowly pushing their way through the blocked vein that is the highway to get to the clot. Growing louder, they yowl once in his ear in red and blue until the ambulance finally gets to the site of the accident, police cars already waiting.

Despite his better judgment, Chris' interest is piqued and his conscience pricked, guilt overcoming his impatience. Resigning himself to the fact that he, along with all the other people stuck here, will be dormant for a while longer, he turns off the motor and gets out of the car. It's cold outside but he doesn't bother with gloves; instead, he just sticks his hands into his pockets.

A small distance ahead, most of the accident is hidden by the official looking cars surrounding it, distinguishing themselves from the masses by their stark white colour against straight lines of black and grey. The site itself is already taped off, closed to the public though the police and hospital personnel swarming inside the yellow-marked square are too busy to shoo away any curious onlookers. As someone is lifted into one of the ambulance cars – there are two, Chris notes – someone in uniform shifts out of the way, revealing a mop of messy, blood-matted brown hair.

Chris suddenly has a bad feeling about this, a rising sense of anxiety fluttering somewhere inside his lower stomach region. It drops like a hammer when the patient is angled in a way that he can see their face. Chris' hands clench into fists, nails digging into his palms so hard it hurts.

* * *

 _"What's up with him?"_

 _"Is he alright?"_

 _"He has to be. He's Sawamura, after all."_

Eijun ignored the whispers as best as he could, like he'd been doing for a while now. There was nothing new to be heard anyway and he didn't have the energy to turn around and say anything to them.

"Eijun-kun, are you alright?" Haruichi sounded worried enough that Eijun stopped picking at his food for a second, cocking his head to the side as he turned his attention to him. To his surprise, his friend wasn't the only one looking at him; Furuya wasn't exactly being subtle about it but he could also feel Kuramochi's occasional glances. Even Kanemaru and Toujou were exchanging looks from the other end of the table.

 _He has to be. He's Sawamura, after all._

Eijun forced himself to appear surprised, as if wondering about how ridiculous Haruichi's question sounded.

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

Haruichi's mouth dipped downwards at the corners and Eijun was suddenly glad his fringe covered his eyes. Half a frown was already more than enough from Haruichi.

"Well, for one, you're not eating." he said, using his chopsticks to point at Eijun's mostly filled tray. He blanched and then proceeded to shovel food into his mouth.

"Yeff, I uhm!" Eijun argued, hunching over his bowl to pick up another bite. Haruichi ignored his sudden burst of action.

"You've been really quiet. And you've been avoiding practice, especially pitching."

 _Red. So much red._

Eijun choked, coughing. Kuramochi started thumping him on the back, hard, but it only made the rice feel like gravel in his throat and his eyes sting even more. Once he could breathe again, he started gulping down his glass of water, slowing down to stall answering the unspoken question hanging in the air. He avoided looking at anyone as he finally set it down, fully aware of the bubble of silence that had built up around their table.

"I'm fine."

Eijun's grip around the glass tightened at the lie. He hated this but he had no choice. He couldn't let them know what he felt. The last time he had done that it had cost them their shot at Koshien. He had cost them.

"Eijun –" Haruichi's concern bled through, enough to be heard in just two short syllables. He stopped when Eijun forced a smile. It didn't reach his eyes, staying dull.

"I am, really. I promise."

The words tasted like ash on his tongue.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind him, Eijun's smile disappeared. It was only a moment's respite because he knew that either of his roommate's could be coming back any second but he needed it. Just for a short while, just until he could pull himself back together and put that smile back on –

Eijun's phone started ringing, loud and obnoxious. It was his latest, favourite song but somehow it felt hollow. Making no move toward it, he stared at the lit up screen, watching as the phone slowly vibrated its way toward the edge of his desk. The bright melody stopped, just shy of toppling over. Eijun let out a quiet sigh of relief, maybe even bit of disappointment, but then it started blaring again, sparkling, optimistic and blissfully oblivious as it dropped off the desk. Alarmed, Eijun dived for it and caught the cheerfully doodling thing before it hit the ground. He glared at it until he saw the caller ID, then swallowed thickly and, with no small amount of fear, picked up with a slight cringe.

"Hello?"

"Ei-chan? Are you okay? Why didn't you pick up the phone?" Wakana sounded increasingly agitated, voice growing louder until Eijun was forced to hold it away from his ear. "I was so worried, Kuramochi said –"

Eijun stopped rubbing his aching knees and elbows, sitting up straight in alarm.

"What did he say?" he asked, trying to sound calm but his thoughts were racing. He thought he'd been so careful – had he slipped, somehow? He'd been trying, really trying, to behave normally. He'd gone to practice, contrary to what Haruichi had said, though perhaps he had a point since Eijun was avoiding the bullpen…but still. He'd also kept up with trying to encourage everyone as he usually did, even if he had messed up a couple of times by missing when someone talked to him, or flinching at sudden body contact…that must be it. Dammit.

"…so I figured I should call." Wakana paused, obviously waiting for Eijun to reply. He shook his head, silently reprimanding himself for zoning out like that again. Clearing his throat, he laughed. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

"Don't worry, Kana. It's all good. Everything's fine."

His reassurance was met with sceptical silence, but Eijun refused to say more. Rather, if he did, he might tell the truth and…he couldn't afford that. This was something he had to deal with by himself and he was already relying on others too much. Like Chris-senpai. And all he could do right now was disappoint him, even if his senpai never had an unkind word to say. All Eijun was, was a burden. A cripple. He swallowed, blinking when his eyes felt suspiciously hot, and bit his lip to stop the words swelling in his throat from spilling out.

"…if you say so, Ei-chan…"

It was clear that Wakana remained thoroughly unconvinced, and so Eijun forced himself to smile again despite her inability to actually see him. Straightening his back, he nodded enthusiastically.

"Absolutely! We're all training hard you know. You'll see, we'll go to Koshien next time." Just saying it burned him from the inside out and he had to blink again. His smile wobbled. "Speaking of, we have practice soon –"

"Oh! Well, go on then. We all know how unstoppable you are once you put your mind to something." To Eijun's utter relief, Wakana's tone gained a teasing edge, and he released a small breath. He hated lying to her but this was to protect her. To protect everyone. He didn't want to be burden any more than he already was.

"Yes! Sorry for only talking for such a short time – I'll call you back, okay?"

"Make sure you do! Good luck!"

Eijun hung up first, eyes and throat still burning, and trying to swallow around the lump that had lodged itself somewhere in the area between his lungs and vocal chords. The door swung open without warning and he stood, looking down at the floor.

Kuramochi paused at the sight of him, taking in his hanging shoulders and the phone clutched in one hand. Surprisingly, all that greeted Eijun was silence instead of the loud hollering and painful wrestling moves he was accustomed to whenever Wakana was concerned. It stretched on, uncomfortably tight and somehow sombre and accusatory at the same time, until he couldn't take it anymore.

If Eijun stayed any longer, he would burst.

Without looking at his tense roommate, Eijun dropped his phone on his bed and then strode past him toward the door.

"I'm going running."

He didn't wait for a reply, taking off as soon as he crossed the threshold. He barely even remembered to close the door before he started running, still in his favourite t-shirt and comfortable track pants, completely unfit for this. At least his shoes were the right ones.

The world passed by him in blurred streaks of colour, melting into each other just like any sounds that reached his ears. Eijun made no effort to listen or pay attention to where he was going; he didn't notice the sounds changing from the clamouring of students and the school bells to the frequent honking of cars from the streets during rush hour. He barely even noticed that the sky went from golden sunset to dark, velvety blue.

The moon began to rise, bright and full in the sky and outshining any stars. The few streetlamp posts installed on campus lit up, fireflies and moths whirring around them. Everything became quiet except for the occasional bursts of chirping from hidden insects and Eijun's rhythmic footfalls on the dry earth of the practice fields, accompanied by harsh panting.

 _"Sawamura!"_

Eijun stopped running so suddenly, he almost stumbled. Chest heaving, he turned, eyes flickering from one end of the field to another, from bleacher to bleacher, but saw no one.

That voice had sounded so familiar but also so _desperate_ …

He tried to still his breathing, only now becoming aware of how much his legs and lungs were burning, of the sweat soaking his clothes and dripping down his face. Cocking his head, he caught sight of the moon and tried to listen intently, to see if his name would be called again –

Nothing came. No distant voices or calls or anything suggesting anyone was there. He was alone.

Eijun looked up at the sky, blinded by moonlight he couldn't remember being this bright.

* * *

"Oi, Masuko! That's cheating!"

"Like you're one to talk." Kazuya drily gives his unwanted input, pretending to ignore the dirty glare that earns him from Kuramochi.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" he snaps, flinching when a loud crash from in front of him sounds. Kuramochi turns back around and yelps, big, brightly-lit letters flashing across the screen.

 _Game over. Play again?_

"It means you're a loser and a cheater." Kazuya supplies helpfully when Kuramochi just keeps gaping. Another glare only prompts him to smirk at Kuramochi over the edge of the notes he gave up studying when the rest of the team started flooding his room. Despite having officially retired from the team, the third years still come around on a weekly basis. It's strangely comforting though of course Kazuya still pretends to feel as put upon as ever by their impromptu invasions. "If you're going to lose, at least do it with dignity. Like Yuuki."

They both automatically glance over at their former captain bent over a shogi board, a look of great concentration on his face. Curiously, and Kazuya is a little surprised at himself for not noticing it earlier since at least half the room's volume during these gatherings originates from there, it's not Sawamura sitting across from Yuuki. There's no aggravated shouting match with Kuramochi or furious whispers of winning the ace title. It's just…a lot quieter than what Kazuya is used to by now.

"Kuramochi."

"What?" Kuramochi looks like he wants to say more, possibly hurl an insult at him, but he must have caught Kazuya's tone. Seeing the set of his jaw and how his eyebrows are drawn together makes Kuramochi close his mouth and frown instead. "What is it?"

"Do you know where Sawamura is?" Kazuya asks, searching the room with his eyes but not finding him. Not that he really expected to see Sawamura there; after all, his ears would have informed him of that fact. But Sawamura's also been unsettlingly quiet lately, so maybe it wasn't all that absurd to think he missed him.

Sawamura being quiet. What are the odds.

"Um." Kuramochi furrows his brows, following suit and checking the room with the same negative results. "Well…if he isn't here…maybe in the bullpen with Chris-senpai?"

"Hm."

While he admires Sawamura's commitment – not that he'd ever say it – and Chris' willingness to help, practice ended hours ago. Not to mention that it's getting fairly late.

"You going after him?" Kuramochi asks, having turned back to face the screen. His thumb hovers over the joy stick, poised to press the CONTINUE button. "It's not like you to openly worry so much."

"Who said I was worried?" Kazuya replies without thinking, already moving toward the door. Thank goodness the room's still rowdy enough even without Sawamura; barely anyone even glances at him as he exits, though he swears he can hear Kuramochi laugh quietly and say something inaudible under his breath.

Kazuya ignores him in favour of shutting the door behind him with force. The noise from inside gets abruptly cut off, leaving him in silence only interrupted by the occasional late night chirping of insects.

He checks the indoor gym first. His thoughts are loud enough to tune out the midnight choir of cicadas; Kuramochi may be right about Kazuya being worried. But then again, it's alright to be worried. He should be, in fact. He's the captain now, after all.

The gym is empty, or at least Kazuya assumes it is. All the lights are out and the doors are locked. He isn't even that surprised, though Kuramochi's suggestion has sound logic to back it up. And this isn't logical at all, but Kazuya doesn't feel like Sawamura would be here. Instead, there's something niggling at the back of his mind and he only allows himself to indulge that persistent itch now that Sawamura obviously isn't where he practises pitches.

It almost feels like a trance as he gives in to the urge to go to the practice fields. It's a pull which grows stronger and stronger with every step he takes. He's hyperaware of everything around him, the occasional rushing of cars from the nearby streets, the even rarer honking, a faraway siren. It's still warm, pleasantly so despite the darkness, but the cool breeze caressing Kazuya's skin feels colder than it should. He shivers.

The path is barely lit, streetlamp posts sparsely strewn along the way. One flickers as he passes underneath before going out completely. Kazuya lengthens his strides, heart speeding up a little in tandem, to escape the dark laying itself across his shoulders like a cloak.

Then the field is finally up ahead, covered in a silver waterfall of moonlight and shadows. It's just bright enough to make out a small figure moving about, identity confirmed by the silhouette of a tire dragging behind. Kazuya lets out a relieved breath, almost not caring that he's still standing in the dark. He slows down, close enough to recognise a familiar mop of messy hair in the pale light, and opens his mouth to call out across the mostly empty, quiet field.

"Sawamura!" his voice rings out, echoing around the bleachers, but Sawamura doesn't turn. Kazuya frowns and repeats himself, speeding up a little, but Sawamura doesn't react at all. It even looks like he's getting further and further away, like the field is expanding and putting distance between them the harder Kazuya tries to reach him.

"Hey! Stop running!" he tries, then again, at the loudest volume he can manage, "Sawamura!"

It doesn't work.

Without noticing, Kazuya has started running himself, heart speeding up and not entirely because of the exercise. It's beating much too fast for this but his breath is starting to grow shallow and panicked. His chest tightens with mounting fear as he keeps going but still fails to get any closer. The tire drags across the ground ahead so loudly, it drowns out Kazuya's footfalls against the dry earth. He reaches out a hand, growing embarrassingly desperate, and gathers all the breath he can from his aching lungs for one last attempt.

"Sawamura!"

Kazuya stumbles. He gasps at the impact on the ground, pain blossoming from the contact and spreading throughout his body rapidly. It hurts much more than it should, like burning ice. His visions flickers, black and white, hot and cold, and he looks up.

Sawamura is gone.

So is the tire, the field, the dark of nightfall and even the moon – everything. He's surrounded by endless, blurry white and quiet though there seem to be muffled noises coming from somewhere. The blurriness sharpens, the noises becoming clearer.

Kazuya's body has gone numb as he slowly sits up, blinking into the cold light of a long, thin ceiling lamp. As he turns his head, he recognises a bedframe – a slight shiver of disgust goes through him as he realises it's a hospital bed.

How the hell did he get here?

He slowly stands, turning from side to side to take in his surroundings. Unsurprisingly, it's a hospital room, but then he finally looks to the bed, at the person in it –

It's Kazuya.

Kazuya's back stiffens, gaping in shock and disbelief.

The Kazuya on the bed is limp and pale, hooked up to several machines and carefully tucked in beneath blankets, stiff and white. Bruises cover his arms, laying on top of the blankets and looking strangely pale and fragile. Except for a few scrapes which have been bandaged or stitched, his face is undamaged, or at least what's visible of it; half is covered by a breathing mask which is connected to a device beside the bed. His chest softly rises and falls in rhythm with the air being pumped in and sucked out of his lungs, creating a strange melody with the steady beeping of the heart monitor. His eyes are closed but the rings beneath them are dark, his hair matted against the pillow. He looks much too broken, much too thin in that hospital gown barely peeking out from the blankets to be Kazuya.

And yet, it undeniably is. That's his face, as beaten up as it is. That's his hair and – when he bends a little closer – that's the scar he got on his right elbow when he was a kid.

But how did he get here?

Kazuya circles the bed, coming to a stop at the foot of it. There's a clipboard with papers stuck in it and it has his name on it. When he reaches out to take it, his hand goes right through. He sucks in a shocked breath. Something pulses at the back of his head, wanting to break out and creating a sense of urgency in him. Doing his best to ignore it, he bends down to read what's visible of the notes on the paper. He glimpses his name first and then two words.

 _Car accident._

Memory slams into him like a punch to the stomach, like sirens loud enough to shatter eardrums, hard enough to make him reel. White turns red and silence into loud screeching, crashing, bursting glass.

The heart monitor starts bleeping alarmingly fast before becoming one long, continuous sound. All Kazuya can do is stand there in shock, unable to move even as doctors and nurses burst into the room the following second.

As they start to attempt to get his heart started again, he has the sense to back away, but he can't move that far. He stands stiff against the wall, in the corner furthest away from – from his body, but he's still close enough to hear when one of the nurses bends down to his lifeless form.

"We can only bring you this far. The rest is up to you." she whispers, "Live."

* * *

Eijun's phone rings, once, twice, three times, on and on until the call gets cut off and is connected to voicemail. The screen lights up, showing 9 missed calls and several new messages, all from an unknown number but perfectly conveying the urgency of the caller. Then it goes black again, and even as Eijun checks his phone later, all that happens is that it slips from his loose grasp, falling to the ground with a loud clattering noise.

Aside from him, it's only Asada in the room, their first year roommate being a little too eager and still practising this late at night. Not that Eijun can blame him, after all he would be doing the same if he wasn't under strict orders by both the coach and his team captain. But right now, his frustration at not being able to do as he pleases is the furthest thing from his mind.

"Senpai? Is something the matter?" Asada pauses scribbling into his notebook and pushes up his glasses as he furrows his eyebrows at Eijun. Eijun barely responds, his head completely wiped clean and his ears filled with rushing noises. That's enough to make Asada abandon his homework completely and come over, picking up the phone lying face down on the ground. He hesitates for only a second before looking at it. Eijun hears him draw in a sharp breath. "Senpai…do you want to call back?"

Eijun can't reply, a lump in his throat and a knot in his tongue.

Does he?

Should he?

Does he still have the right to call? To care?

His heart breaks a little more as he realises he doesn't know the answer. Not anymore.

* * *

Sorry for any mistakes or typos I've made, they will be cleaned up asap


End file.
